


Sleepy and Chrome

by jro512



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Short & Sweet, Sleepy Cuddles, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 21:52:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17516507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jro512/pseuds/jro512
Summary: A quiet moment on the road to Valhalla.





	Sleepy and Chrome

The road to Valhalla is hard, yes, as is to be yearned for. Valhalla opens its gates to the unbreakable, the battle-honored. But the road to Valhalla is strange, too.

The one called Capable leans against his abdomen, sound asleep, while he leans against the back seat of the cab. Below and behind, the war rig thrums unendingly. The vibrations have deadened the nerves of his back, but other sensations render those nerves unnecessary.

Smells whorl below his nose. Outlandish, extraordinary smells.

Her hair smells of sand… _warm_ sand. He can smell warmth, and he inhales slowly, deliberately. It’s not dust and grit, not the sand that sticks under fingernails and in wounds and grinds a man’s teeth down. It smells bronze, yellow-gold… warm. He sees the color of it when he closes his eyes.

And not sand alone. It emanates a foreign smell, although entirely lovely, almost as if there’s a whiff of the Citadel’s greens on the wind. But sweeter.

His fingertips, when he trails them ever lightly across her shoulders, her neck, stroke burnished steel, but… _superior_. Could there be such a thing? Something so spiritually electrifying as newly plated chrome, but _alive_? Her skin, too, smells unfamiliar but enlivening. Again, a tickling sweetness unlike any component of oil and steam and guzzoline. One of the Mothers spoke of trees and fruit and flowers. _Do flowers smell like my Capable?_

_Are there flowers in Valhalla?_

But for the first time since he set out from the Citadel, pursuing Furiosa, he wants to linger here before striving forth again for Valhalla. _I am awaited_ , he considers, _but they can wait a little longer_.

He presses a kiss to the top of her head, feeling the texture of her coarse waves against his scarred lips.

Then he lets his cheek rest against her hair. He inhales once more and lets sleep blanket him in peaceful black.


End file.
